Something Like A Fairytale
by hasapi
Summary: No one knew Blaise Zabini, but that didn't mean he didn't know them. A Boy!Blaise&Hermione story written from Professors' POV's! Chapter 3 Irma Pince up!
1. Minerva McGonagall

_Something Like A Fairytale_

Minerva McGonagall placed the final paper in the pile, letting a frustrated sigh escape her lips. The only thing she was grateful for was that apparently Miss Granger had finally stopped letting Weasley and Potter read her paper, because the three's reports were starkly different in structure and content. It was about time, too. For the past six years, Minerva had stopped at Weasley's paper with a groan because it was always so close to Miss Granger's. Potter's was better; he seemed to use Miss Granger's paper as a source rather than simply copying it. "According to a reliable source…" had been one of her favorite lines.   
  
But now something seemed to have happened. She would have been grateful and not questioned it at all, but the trio (as she often referred to them, and how many of the faculty had been for some years now) was having problems, and Minerva was not blind to it. She knew that Weasley and Granger had dated for a month and a half at the beginning of the year, and that for some inexplicable reason Granger had broken up with him. If she had been listening correctly, they were no longer on speaking terms. Potter seemed to be trying to be a mediator, but by the looks of it he wasn't succeeding very well.  
  
A knock on the door pulled Minerva from her thoughts, and as she said, "Come in," she sincerely wished it would be Miss Granger, if for no other reason than she was dying to know what the problem with the three was. Any idiot could see that anyone who fought as much as Weasley and Granger fought had to be in love with each other.  
  
However, she was sorely disappointed when a young man entered. Black hair—the color closely resembling Potter's—and blue eyes were the first things that distinguished him in her mind. The odd thing was that she could not remember where she had seen him before. She wasn't even certain what house he was in. How could anyone with such distinct features—in addition to the high cheekbones and aristocratic nose—could have escaped her notice for so long. The day was warm enough that he wasn't wearing a scarf, and his tie was hidden beneath his robe. And thus, all ways to classify him were gone. Minerva was quite confused.  
  
"Hello, Professor," the boy said, giving her a small smile. Well, anyone who addressed her with such respect could not be from Slytherin. She supposed he was in Ravenclaw, then. Yes, that made sense. They were all hidden behind their books most of the time anyway.  
  
"Hello, young man. I'm afraid I don't recall your name…" she trailed off, hoping he would supply it.  
  
"Blaise Zabini."   
  
"Ah, yes, of course," she nodded. "Won't you have a seat?"   
  
"No, I just have a quick question. I have Potions in a few minutes."  
  
"All right." But the Slytherins and Gryffindors had Potions at that time. How could that be, unless…  
  
"This isn't really academic," he said, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. He readjusted the strap on his bag, and Minerva's eyes were drawn to it. He hadn't revealed his house crest. Damn.  
  
"That's quite all right," she said, trying to smile reassuringly. It wasn't something she'd ever been very good at, but it seemed to satisfy Zabini. Why was he coming to her, though? This wasn't making any sense. He had to be either a Slytherin or a Gryffindor, but he couldn't be a Gryffindor because she knew all the Gryffindors, and he couldn't be a Slytherin because no Slytherins would ever come to her with questions that weren't academic. Even the Gryffindors didn't come very often. The last she remembered was Colin Creevey—and what an occasion that had been.  
  
"I like a girl," he said.   
  
Minerva raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue, again wondering why he was coming to her.   
  
"She isn't in the same house as I am, though, and I don't think anyone in my house will like that I like her, and I don't even know whether she likes me or not. What if I tell her and she laughs in my face?" This was all said in a rush, and at the end Zabini let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.  
  
Minerva opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. In all her years of teaching… "If you like her and would like to get to know her better," she began, wondering why she, a seventy-year-old spinster, should be giving advice in matters of the heart, "Perhaps you should take that chance. Approach the girl privately and talk to her about it. If she agrees to getting to know you better, then does it really matter what the rest of your house thinks?"  
  
Zabini smiled at her. "Thanks, Professor," he said. "That's what I was thinking. I guess I just needed someone to reinforce it." He turned to go.  
  
"Wait, Zabini," Minerva called. She had to ask. "Why did you come to me?"  
  
Zabini looked her in the eye. "Because I respect you," he said, adjusting the strap on his bag again. Minerva's eyes moved to the house crest the innocent move had revealed, her eyes widening slightly. "And I find it hard to respect my own head of house."   
  
This time she let him leave. Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin, had asked her, the head of Gryffindor, for advice.   
  
Wait until she told Albus about this one.


	2. Severus Snape

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter. That is the distinct honor of J.K. Rowling. Lucky chick.

* * *

It was a normal day in N.E.W.T.-level potions for Severus Snape. There were a small number of students in the class, as he had adamantly refused to take anyone into the class who had earned less than an E on their O.W.L. exam. In previous years, he had refused to take anyone who earned less than an O; however, this year that had whittled his Potions class down to a grand total of two students (one of whom was Miss Granger, the other a Ravenclaw), and he had been forced to make some exceptions. Not to mention that Minerva had refused to take no for an answer when she requested that he accept Potter into the class. 

Not that he would ever admit to being scared of Minerva McGonagall.

Indeed, Snape was not in the least _scared_ of Minerva. It was just that she knew how to make his life miserable when he didn't bend at least slightly to her will.

He would accept Potter (and, horror of horrors, _Weasley_) into his Potions class with little fuss, but that didn't mean he would be treating them any differently than he had in the past. On the contrary, some might argue that he had been treating them worse.

Nonetheless, it was an ordinary day in N.E.W.T.-level potions. The class was working on the Draught of Living Death, which he only expected Miss Granger to complete to anything resembling the actual thing. Yes, he did expect that of her. Potter and Weasley on their best days could not compare to Miss Granger's ability to follow directions to a T, and certainly none of his Slytherins (or the Ravenclaws).

He had a sort of grudging respect for someone who was able to make up so well for their lack of magical capacity. It was a little-known fact that ninety per cent of your magical ability was decided by the concentration you put into it, and only ten per cent of actual magic. As a Muggle-born, Miss Granger had less magic than her Pureblooded and Half-blooded counterparts; however, none of them possessed even half of the concentration she was able to utilize in her studies and her magic. Potter had his moments, Snape would admit, but those were few and far between.

Glancing around the room, Snape surveyed the rest of his students. Four Slytherins had managed an E on their Potions O.W.L. – including Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. Of the two, he supposed that Blaise Zabini probably had the most potential after he left school. Although Zabini was a very quiet individual, Snape had noticed that his magical ability was easily one of the highest in the class. Of course, that did not matter much in Potions; as he told his students as soon as they entered in their first year, there was no foolish wand waving in his class.

Despite his general disinterest in his students, it had not escaped his notice that Minerva had been gloating around the faculty lounge for the last two days about how Zabini had come to her office and asked her for advice about asking a girl out from another house. She hadn't been very specific, but had implied that Zabini trusted her enough to ask the question, rather than his own head of house. Snape rolled his eyes whenever she brought this up, but as he walked around the room inspecting the progress of their potions, he did wonder which house Zabini had been talking of…and if his choice of Minerva as a confidante was more than a coincidence.

Normally the thought of one of his Slytherins having anything to do with someone from Gryffindor would have been enough to send him into spasms. However, he knew Zabini well enough to know that he was not the type to be interested in someone like Parvati Patil or Lavender Brown. On the contrary, the only student he thought possible of arousing the quiet Slytherin's interest was Ms. Granger, who, although it was not his place to know this, was not necessarily unattractive.

It was certainly a thought worth following.

Ten minutes later, it was time to see who had come closest to making something resembling of the Draught of the Living Dead. As Snape walked around the room, he made no effort to control the sneer that came over his face as he caught sight of many turquoise colored cauldrons—in a draught that was supposed to be clear. Obviously his students had not added the hellebore correctly.

"Can anyone tell me what it means when a draught that was supposed to be clear is now turquoise?" he asked in the silence.

Unsurprisingly, Miss Granger was the only one to raise her hand.

With a sneer, he said, "Anyone?"

He would have bet his life that she rolled her eyes to the heavens, something he had never witnessed her doing before. What was happening in the world of the Gryffindors to cause such a reaction in her, he wondered, noticing as he had not before that Mr. Potter and Weasley were not sitting in their usual spots beside Miss Granger, but were instead behind her. Catching sight of a raised hand in the back of the room, Snape would have breathed a sigh of relief if he were the type to do so.

"Mr. Zabini?"

"The hellebore was added incorrectly, sir," Zabini answered, his voice quiet but strong. Snape's eyes darted to Miss Granger as he listened to Zabini's response. She did not seem to notice Zabini, nor did she seem incredibly upset that another student had stolen her thunder.

"Excellent, two points to Slytherin." He suppressed another smirk as he heard Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley make sudden noises. "Did you need something, Mr. Potter?"

"No, sir," Potter said, although the glare he sent towards Snape almost got him a detention. However, since Snape was in one of his rare good moods, he let it slide.

"Please bottle a sample of your potion and bring it to the front of the room. I want six inches on Monday of the correct way to add hellebore to the Draught of the Living Dead. You are dismissed."

Unlike other classes, there was no groaning as he announced the extra essay. They had learned quickly that arguing with him—or expressing dissatisfaction—was only a surefire way to more work.

After the bottles had made their way to his desk, the room cleared quickly, until only Miss Granger and Mr. Zabini were still in the room. Realizing the opportunity he was being presented, Snape made for the door to his office before either could finish packing their belongings. Closing the door behind him, he Accio'd an Extendable Ear from the stash he had of things he had confiscated from students—not that he would ever admit to using one, nor to creeping about listening to students.

Snape was so momentarily disgusted by what he was doing that he almost missed overhearing something that Minerva would have killed for.

"Er, Hermione?"

There was a pause, and a shuffling of papers. "Yes?"

"So, there's a Hogsmea—er, I mean, I was wondering if you and I could study together for the test next week."

Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Why on Earth had Zabini been sorted into Slytherin? The boy had no backbone.

"Okay, uh..."

"Blaise Zabini. You can call me Blaise."

"Okay, Blaise. That's fine. I usually do most of my studying in the library."

"Sounds great. Do you want to meet tomorrow night?"

"Sure."

Well, maybe not something Minerva would kill for. But certainly something he could dangle in front of her at the next staff meeting. Oh, the fun he would have...


	3. Irma Pince

As she recast the spell for the alarm system on the Restricted Section, Irma Pince wondered if she could set a similar spell on the library itself that was specified to the teachers. She didn't want it going off every time someone walked into the library, but she would like to know when there were other teachers about—particularly since Minerva had warned her that there was a rumor going around the staff table that Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini would be studying together today, which meant that there would probably be more teachers than normal, disrupting her sanctuary.

It was not something that surprised Irma, however. Being who she was, she had a rare opportunity to observe all of the students in different circumstances and times of day. Ms. Granger and Mr. Zabini were two students that she actually did not have any great feelings of animosity towards. They both treated books with the respect they should be given as the great bearers of knowledge they were. It nearly ripped at her insides when students dropped the books, forgot the books, or put them in the wrong spot on the shelves. If they didn't know how to use a book or put it away then they shouldn't be in the library at all!

Ms. Granger was one of those rare students who actually seemed to enjoy reading. Her checkout history was almost a book in itself and was as varied as Professor Dumbledore's would have been if he deigned to tell her when he was taking a book. It irked her to no end that the man could come into her library and take a book or two—sometimes ten—without telling her. Granted, it was a rare time when a student was actually looking for the same book the Headmaster had out, but it was disrespectful to Irma, the students, and the books, to not let them know what was about.

Mr. Zabini, too, seemed to enjoy reading. However, he rarely checked books out, instead spending the majority of his time in the library. There was a particular corner Irma found he had taken over most days of the week. Although Ms. Granger certainly spent more time than most in the library, Mr. Zabini held the record.

Of course, this was not something that Irma had shared with her fellow teachers. On the contrary, there was a rather nice bet going that Ms. Granger would hold the record for most time spent in the library by her graduation date.

Only Irma had money down on Mr. Zabini.

"Madam Pince," a whiny voice called from the other side of the checkout desk.

Irma looked up grumpily, having been distracted from thinking about all the wonderful things she would buy from the bet she had on Mr. Zabini: an original copy of _Hogwarts, A History_, some new Self-Inking Quills for checking books out… Ah, one of the annoying Patil girls, whichever one it was. She narrowed her eyes, focusing on the badge on the girl's robes. Gryffindor. Parvati Patil. How annoying.

"Yes, Ms. Patil?"

"Madam Pince," she repeated, "I simply cannot find any of the books on the divination of moon signs. I've looked all over the divination section."

Without looking at the checkout list, Irma responded, "Ms. Brown has our only copy out."

Ms. Patil's features drooped visibly, the corners of her mouth falling, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Oh. Thanks."

And she left.

Irma sighed. If only she could leave the humdrum life of a library madam and get a job classifying and organizing books at a major museum or private collection. She'd heard Lucius Malfoy was looking for someone…

She shook herself slightly and narrowed her eyes. Ms. Granger had just entered the library, and rather than her quick, no-nonsense walk towards whichever section she had need of, she hesitated in the doorway. Then she took a step forward, towards the Muggle Studies and History sections, before abruptly turning and coming up to Irma's desk.

"Madam Pince," Ms. Granger began respectably. One always knew that Ms. Granger was speaking to one with respect, rather than mocking one. It was refreshing to know there were still people like Ms. Granger growing up to repopulate the world. "I'm terribly sorry, but have you seen Blaise Zabini in here tonight?"

Irma bestowed a rare smile on the girl, gloating inside. "I'm afraid I haven't seen him yet tonight," she said, watching Ms. Granger's shoulders droop, "But when he comes in he will probably head to that table," she finished, pointing to Mr. Zabini's particular corner.

"Thank you, Madam Pince," Ms. Granger said, her voice low, "Have a wonderful evening."

"You, too, Ms. Granger," Irma responded, letting a ghost of a smile pass her lips as she turned back to the books she was currently sorting. She continued watching the girl out of the corner of her eye as she walked towards the corner, Zabini's corner, of the library farthest from the main doors – and thus, always the least populated, a choice which Irma decided was not coincidental. Though he could converse with others if need be, Mr. Zabini did not actively seek out other students' company. Irma, of course, didn't blame him in the least.

Miss Granger didn't have long to wait. Within five minutes of her abrupt entry, Mr Zabini was making his way through the library, slowly, so as to make certain he didn't miss the young lady in the stacks. Irma smiled secretly, picking up a stack of books she had been waiting to shelve for just this opportunity. She'd been saving the Muggle fiction books ever since she'd heard Severus gloating to Minerva yesterday, hoping that the pair would decide to study in Mr Zabini's oft-used corner. It seemed her wish was to be granted. All that was left was to make certain no one else disturbed the two, which was quickly accomplished with a well-placed Distraction Charm around the three of them: Miss Granger, Mr Zabini, and herself. That would keep the rest of the noisy professors out for at least fifteen minutes. After that, some of those who were better at charms might recognize the tickle at the back of the neck for what it was.

"Hello," Ms. Granger started, "Er, Blaise."

"Hello," he replied. Irma heard a shuffling and then a soft clunk as his bookbag hit the ground. "…May I call you Hermione?"

"Sure," she laughed, the sound a bit high-pitched as she shifted quickly on her chair. "So, did you want to exchange notes or just study for now?"

"How about we start by studying? Are you done with chapter 8?" Another shuffle and a soft thud as a book hit the table, and a rustle of papers and clink of ink jars.

Ms. Granger laughed again, more naturally this time, as she said, "Honestly, I've read through to chapter 13. I've almost finished the work for chapter 9."

Irma could hear the smile in Mr. Zabini's voice. "I've already started chapter 10."

"You have?" No one could affect disbelief better than the estimable Ms. Granger.

"Of course. How else do you think I became the second in our year? Between us, Ravenclaw's not in a good place. Every other year except ours, Ravenclaw has the first three people from their house."

"Where did you find that out?"

"Professor Snape posts the rankings weekly in our Common Room."

"Professor McGonagall doesn't do that for us. At least, I don't think she does. Could I have missed it?"

"It's possible. He might post it, but it isn't prominent."

"I'll have to look when I go in this evening."

The conversation lapsed for a moment as Ms. Granger and Mr. Zabini opened their books, and the sound of quills scraping on parchment became prominent.

"So, the addition of fluxweed too early in brewing would…" Ms. Granger trailed off.

"Render it lethal, wouldn't it?"

"Well, I don't know. See…"

Irma smiled and set the last book in its place. Leaving the distraction charm in place for as long as it would hold, she walked away, feeling very secure that the two would get to know each other quite well by the end of the evening. In fact, she was very certain they would have another meeting before long.


End file.
